


Friends, Buddies, Pals

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Humor, Episode: s04e14 I Do, M/M, Marking, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode reaction/filler fic for 4x14, "I Do"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends, Buddies, Pals

Kurt tipped his head under the shower stream, eyes clenched tight, and let the hot water beat into his scalp for a few minutes. Yesterday had been surprising, to say the least, though Kurt didn’t know why he had expected anything less from a New Directions wedding. Even if he’d thought Miss Pillsbury being the bride would lend some sort of order to the proceedings.  
  
No, the real surprise, Kurt thought, lathering up his loofah, had been how quickly he’d fallen into Blaine, how his poker face, so solid at Christmas, had cracked as soon as Blaine, all suited up, smiled at him so hopefully from the driver’s seat of his car. With only a gear shift between them, it was too close to be on the receiving end of that smile again — hopeful, devoted as ever, but nervous, a new member of Blaine’s “Kurt” smiles since Christmas Eve — and not be affected. So Kurt leaned over and pressed his lips to Blaine’s because he wanted to.

Kurt smiled at the fresh memory, at the sound of the split-second gasp Blaine had made before kissing back. Kurt ran the soapy loofah down his chest, and as it scraped across his left nipple, pain burst from the spot.

"AH!" Kurt pulled his hand away and stepped back from the water. He looked down at himself and gently touched a finger to the area. His nipples were hard now, which made it easier to see the broken skin right at the edge of the left one. He pressed his finger against it experimentally, but the same pain shot back to him. Fuck.  
  
"Blaine," Kurt hissed, half-annoyed and half-amused, heart beating hard against his hand, and the moment came back into view:

 _Hazel eyes, massive that close and at that angle, thick eyelashes fluttering against his skin, Blaine’s nose pressed into Kurt’s chest as his pink lips hid Kurt’s tightening nipple, and he licked and sucked for minutes that felt endless, until Kurt had worked his fingernails through too much hairgel and Blaine’s teeth entered the sublime equation. Kurt tugged, but so did Blaine, harder than Kurt could remember him biting before, and Kurt screamed, more out of shock than pain, but still he said, “Not so hard, baby,” and Blaine had immediately let go, kissing and licking gently over the spot in apology and moving to the other side with a grin at the pet name Kurt hadn’t even noticed had slipped out._  
  
Kurt reached up and tilted the showerhead just a bit lower, then continued lathering himself with his free hand still resting over the sore spot. The loofah made slow circles all the way down his chest, and he idly flicked his nipple.

It was pure heat this time, a bolt of pain that begged him not to touch and a rush of pleasure that ordered him to do it again, and Kurt dropped the loofah and gripped his cock in its place. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” Kurt gasped, planting his other hand on the wall of the shower, and if he’d ever gotten hard faster than in that moment, he certainly couldn’t remember it.  
  
 _Blaine shimmied backwards between Kurt’s legs, making his way down Kurt’s chest without removing his lips or teeth for more than a second, and soon, Kurt’s pale skin was covered in little hickeys and flushed and tingling all over. “I gave you the chicken pox,” Blaine giggled, admiring his own work._  
  
 _"How much champagne have you had?" Kurt smirked down at him and moved his hand from the back of Blaine’s neck to stroke his cheek._  
  
 _"None," Blaine grinned, quickly licking into Kurt’s belly button before continuing his slide downwards. "I’m just—"_  
  
 _"Don’t you dare say you’re drunk on me or I swear I’ll push you off the be— ohhh—"_  
  
 _Blaine’s laugh was muffled with the head of Kurt’s cock in his mouth. “Mmm… Shuh uh, Kur’.”_  
  
Kurt backed up until he was leaning on the tile wall and rubbed his hand over the sore nipple again. The sensation ripped a sob out of him that echoed off the shower tiles, and god damn it, today was supposed to be innocent, they were going to the movies later, he was not supposed to be jerking off to his ex-boyfriend right now. (He also wasn’t supposed to have named a one-armed pillow after Blaine’s favorite Avenger, yet that was another recent development.) But Blaine had kissed, and licked, and hummed around Kurt so slowly, leisurely even, like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. (There wasn’t, Kurt reminded himself smugly, Blaine’s eager smile outside the hotel room flashing across his mind.)  
  
The bite hurt, there was no way around that, but Kurt was shaking with how quickly the sensation had pushed him to the edge. So he pressed harder. He held his breath through the pain and stroked himself, nipple and cock, again and again, everything pulsing and tightening, and he stroked harder still, until—  
  
 _KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK._ “Hey Kurt, did you still want a ride to McKinley?”  
  
Kurt yelped and his feet slipped out from under him, his hands planting on the edges of the tub just quickly enough to catch him from hitting the floor. Bottles of product clattered past the shower curtain and onto the floor and Finn’s voice rang through the door again.

"You okay, little bro?"  
  
"Shit." Kurt sat down in the tub and covered his face with one arm, still shaking, only now his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. "Shit, shit, shit—"  
  
"Kurt?" The bathroom door handle jiggled.  
  
"Don’t, Finn! I’m fine!"  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"When are we leaving?"  
  
"20 minutes? Cool?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
This time, Kurt heard Finn’s heavy footsteps moving outside the door, and when Kurt was sure he was gone, he shot a frustrated sigh into his hands, did not touch his softening cock, and let the shower stream rinse away what little soap had made it onto his body.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Blaine stood at his open locker, the halls of McKinley buzzing around him, and straightened his collar in the small mirror he kept on the back wall. He knew it was perfect — it was always perfect — but he’d been fidgety all day. Ever since he woke up that morning, ever since he rolled from his side to his back only to discover just how sore his ass was from the night before. He’d flipped onto his stomach instead, and squeezed, just to feel, and yawned a content smile in his pillow at the resulting warmth in his belly.  
  
That first round, before he’d met Kurt back downstairs and then gone right back up with him again, had been downright frantic.

_Blaine couldn’t breathe through his anticipation at the door, couldn’t stop beaming until Kurt tugged him forward by his tie, barely waiting until the door closed behind them, and slammed their mouths together, all teeth and tongue on his bottom lip, rough from the start. Blaine responded in kind, but let Kurt pull him along and take what he needed._

_Kurt swiveled his shoulders, still leading Blaine by his neck towards the bed and kissing him raw, until he got one arm free from his jacket. Then he switched hands, shucked off the other sleeve, and turned both their bodies until the backs of Blaine’s knees hit the bed._  
  
 _Blaine sat and stared up at Kurt with his chest heaving and his tongue running over his bottom lip for only a moment before Kurt was on him again, pushing the lapels of his jacket apart just once, and trusting Blaine to get rid of it himself while Kurt went at Blaine’s buttons. Blaine nodded, locking eyes with Kurt, and almost whined at the look he found staring down at him. Kurt’s eyes were hooded, black with pupil in the dim light of the hotel room, one eyebrow raised confidently — cockily, really — in his smirk._  
  
 _Ignoring the frenzied kisses from a minute ago, anyone else might’ve thought Kurt was being rather calm about Blaine’s dismantling, but Blaine knew better. Kurt’s fingers were trembling, his breath coming too hard for him to keep his lips pursed in that expression, and once’s Blaine’s jacket was thrown somewhere on the floor, Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine’s hands to his zipper. Blaine watched Kurt watching his movements, and he cupped Kurt though his pants and squeezed. Kurt brought his forehead against Blaine’s and groaned, and Blaine found himself blinking up at the ceiling and his own feet as Kurt’s hands grabbed underneath his thighs and lifted him backwards._  
  
 _"Shit, Kurt please—"_  
  
 _And there was Kurt on top of him, chests pressed together. “I’m here.”_  
  
Blaine, on his stomach in his own bed that morning, pushed the back of his briefs down and rubbed a finger over his sensitive hole where he was still fairly open. He slipped in one finger, followed quickly by another, and another, in and out, in and out, and sweet fuck he was sore but that burn was everything, sending his heartbeat into overdrive and heat coiling tight into his belly. He hadn’t felt Kurt that way since… before, and he didn’t want the feeling going away any time soon. Blaine squeezed around his now three fingers, and moaned into his pillow.  
  
Now, at his locker, Blaine took a deep breath and squeezed again, as he’d been doing intermittently all day. Maybe he’d had to sit with his legs crossed in every class and walk through the halls with his satchel strategically tilted in front of him a few times, but the little jolt his steady reminder gave him was worth it.  
  
"Hey, you."  
  
Blaine smiled at the voice and shut his locker before he turned and saw Kurt standing behind him in what was the thickest red sweater Blaine — and possibly, anyone — had ever seen. “Hi,” he said, looking back up at Kurt’s face.

Kurt’s cheeks were pink and his eyes were steady on Blaine’s. “How are you?” Kurt took a step closer and Blaine was struck by just how big he seemed in front of him, in a way he hadn’t noticed the day before. Kurt had been taller than him for a long time, but Blaine couldn’t even see around him. Well, he couldn’t see around Kurt no matter what he wore, but maybe it was that chunky sweater, god, Kurt’s chest and arms, just… Blaine knew what he looked like underneath it, like, he had fresh visuals and everything, but Kurt’s whole frame seemed… Blaine squeezed and let out a long exhale.  
  
Kurt ducked his head to meet Blaine’s gaze. “Blaine?”  
  
Blaine blinked. “Hi.”  
  
"You said that." Kurt was definitely trying not to smile now. He was so calm and solid, and Blaine took a deep breath and tried to match him.  
  
"I did. My mind’s elsewhere today."  
  
Kurt took another step closer. “Elsewhere?”  
  
Blaine leaned back against his locker. “Mm-hmm.”  
  
 _"You with me?" Kurt panted into his ear. Blaine felt Kurt’s sweaty, naked chest settle over his back. Blaine had his forehead buried in a pillow and was clutching its edges for dear life with his eyes shut tight and his ass in the air. He’d been moaning and whimpering almost nonstop after Kurt had stretched him open, and his hips kept twitching backwards, desperate for Kurt to fill him where his hard, latex-covered cock was resting between Blaine’s cheeks. Blaine was completely enveloped in him, his knees digging into the bed with Kurt’s knees sitting on either side of them, and Kurt holding himself up with his hands next to Blaine’s fists. Blaine moaned again in response to Kurt’s question and wiggled his ass impatiently, aware of nothing but Kurt’s weight on top of him._  
  
 _Kurt nipped his shoulder. “That’s not an answer, Blaine. I need you to say it.”_  
  
 _"I’m with you, I’m yours, just yours, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—"_  
  
 _"No, that’s not what—"_  
  
 _"I’m sorry, I’m yours, please, Kurt—"_  
  
 _Kurt tilted Blaine’s face towards him. “Blaine, honey, please stop apologizing.”_

 _Blaine heard Kurt’s voice waver and opened his eyes. Kurt kissed him gently on his nose, then his lips, and whispered shushes into his cheek until Blaine calmed. “Right here and now. You with me?”_  
  
 _Blaine took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”_  
  
 _They watched each other for a moment before Kurt straightened up and put his_ _hands on Blaine’s hips._  
  
 _"Kurt?"_  
  
 _"Yes, Blaine?"_  
  
 _He pressed his forehead back into the bed. “Hard, please?”_  
  
 _Kurt twisted his fingers in the looser-gelled hair at the back of Blaine’s neck and_ _pushed inside him in one fast, hard thrust. Blaine moaned his loud approval into the_ _pillow._  
  
"I haven’t stopped thinking about yesterday, you know."  
  
Kurt nodded. “Me either. But we’re not—”  
  
"We’re not back together. We’re just friends," Blaine recited. Then he dropped his voice and continued, "I haven’t stopped thinking about how friendly it was when you fucked me so hard that I couldn’t sit right in class today, and then came back for seconds and screamed my name while I rode you into the mattress."  
  
"Blaine."  
  
"I mean, you’d do that with Rachel and Mercedes, right? Because that’s something you do when you’re just friends?"  
  
Kurt narrowed his eyes at him.  
  
Blaine held up his hands and smiled one of his so-satisfied-he’s-bursting-with-it smiles.  
  
"Kurt!" Tina’s voice was loud across the hallway. Kurt stepped away from Blaine and smiled politely at Tina as she ran over and stood next to them.  
  
"Hello, Tina," he said — a little coldly, Blaine noticed. "Blaine and I are about to leave, actually, so—"  
  
"Okay, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about how I acted."  
  
"When? What happened?" Blaine asked, eyes darting between Kurt and Tina.  
  
Tina looked up at Kurt with her mouth open in surprise. “You didn’t tell him yet?”  
  
Kurt sighed and shook his head. “There was a lot going on. Walk with us.”  
  
*~*~*  
  
 **Santana Lopez** tagged **5 photos of you**.  
  
Four of the photos, with various numbers of Likes, were of Kurt and Blaine performing together. Kurt on stage with Blaine, throwing a flirty look at him across the stage as Blaine pointed to himself, as if to say, “Who, me?” A blurrier photo, caught mid-dance move, with the two of them smiling at each other. Kurt and Blaine back to back, with Kurt resting his head against Blaine’s. And one with them pressed up against each other, holding a mic out for Brittany and Marley.  
  
 **Marley Rose** (friends with **Blaine Anderson** ) commented on **a photo of you** : _So cute! You guys were great up there! *u*_  
  
 **Tina Cohen Chang** , **Sam Evans** , and **6 other people** like this.  
  
The fifth photo showed Blaine’s back as he slow-danced with Kurt. Kurt’s body pressed close, and Kurt’s chin rested on the hand he had holding tight to Blaine’s shoulder. Kurt knew what Blaine had looked like that day, saw the emotion written all over him, but looking at himself was a different story. Photo-Kurt’s eyes were half-closed, and the smile he wore was small, but absolutely serene.  
  
 **Noah Puckerman** , **Rachel Berry** , and **14 other people** like this.  
  
Kurt sighed. Adam was going to see this, if he hadn’t already. Untagging himself would be conspicuous, and anyway… Kurt didn’t really want to. It was a beautiful photo. It looked like the money shot of a wedding album where someone actually got married.  
  
Wouldn’t he look that happy when he and—? _If_ he and—?  
  
Kurt threw his phone at his pillow as if it were at fault for the images currently shooting through his head. He scooted off the bed and sat at his vanity table.  
  
It was so hot in his room. Kurt had chosen his sweater that day because the silk shirts he’d brought with him weren’t thick enough to hide the odd little bump in his black undershirt. He removed them both in one go and carefully pulled off the bandaid he’d placed over his injured nipple; it had been hell trying to get dressed without it. In the bright light of the vanity, the purple hickeys spotting his chest stood out against his pale skin, and Kurt caught himself smiling as his other hand crept over his stomach.  
  
 _Blaine’s palms rested on Kurt’s chest as he slowly ground his ass around Kurt’s cock. His head was tilted back and Kurt watched a bead of sweat travel down his Adam’s apple. Wanting to put his mouth on it, Kurt reached up to pull Blaine down to him, but Blaine placed his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, pushed him back down, and relaxed a little more, letting his weight press Kurt into the bed._  
  
 _"B, please, I need to move." Kurt knew they’d both been hard so much longer than they’d allowed themselves in their first, much faster round._  
  
 _"In a minute, just wanna feel you."_  
  
 _Kurt pushed his hands into Blaine’s cheeks and spread him apart. Blaine gasped above him, his mouth staying open where it had dropped into a slack O, and Kurt traced a finger, hard, around Blaine’s stretched rim. Blaine’s ensuing high-pitched whine lilted into a loud moan as he blinked down at Kurt with the amber nearly blown from his eyes, suddenly looking positively feral in comparison with the languid ecstasy he’d been in for the past torturous hour._  
  
 _"Feel that?" Kurt asked, his voice gravelly and shot with increasing desperation._  
  
 _Blaine tightened his fingers around Kurt’s shoulders, and started to fuck himself without another word. Slow lift, hard drop, slow lift, hard drop, filling himself with Kurt completely and swiveling his hips until —_  
  
 _"Right there, right there!"_  
  
 _As Kurt fucked into him, Blaine met every thrust, panting and dragging his fingernails down Kurt’s chest._  
  
Kurt ran his fingers over the barely-visible lines across his skin and watched himself in the mirror, letting his mind drift where it wanted. His phone buzzed with a call, and he retrieved it from the bed before sitting back down in front of the mirror.  
  
It was Blaine. Of course.  
  
"Hey," Kurt said softly, trying to keep the breathiness out of his greeting.  
  
"Hi," came Blaine’s voice, and it was apparent that he was making no effort to control his.

Kurt could never forget that tone, even without his recent review course. He heard a little whine on the other end of the phone, and fuck, his dick was pressing insistently against his fly before he could process what was happening. “Blaine?”  
  
"What are you — _mmm_ , what are you doing?”  
  
Kurt quickly got up, locked his bedroom door and returned to the vanity. “I’m inspecting my wounds. I suspect a honey badger would’ve left fewer marks than you did.”  
  
"I’m… _oh_ , okay, no, I’m not sorry.”  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Hold on.” Kurt stood so his whole bare torso was visible in the mirror, snapped a picture, then tapped ‘Send’ and waited.  
  
"Kurt…"  
  
"Sorry now?"  
  
Blaine’s breathing got louder. “Fuck, that’s everywhere I tasted you,” he moaned.  
  
Well, shit, that was a no. Kurt palmed himself in his increasingly uncomfortable jeans and watched his face turn red in the mirror.  
  
"You’re taking that back to New York with you," Blaine reminded him.  
  
Kurt pressed the darkest bruise, the one over his hip bone, and gasped into the phone, “Yes, I know.”  
  
"Does Mr. New York know what you taste like?"  
  
Kurt’s “No,” in a quiet whimper, shot out of him faster than he would have liked, as did, “you’re the only one who does.”  
  
"What if he saw?"  
  
Oh, god, Kurt knew that wouldn’t happen, even felt a momentary pang of guilt knowing that wouldn’t happen, but the thought of Adam seeing his chest and stomach peppered with hickeys sent a flare of heat into his belly that he was not proud of. Kurt unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them and his underwear down his thighs, just enough to free himself. He put the phone between his shoulder and ear and pressed hard on his nipple.  
  
Kurt’s cock throbbed in his hand and he started stroking himself, gasping, “Then he’d know. He’d see — _you,_ all over me, _oh,_ they’re everywhere.” He had Blaine stamped all over his skin and underneath it, felt — damn it, he hated to think of it this way, but he felt claimed, and that old pride that overtook him whenever he’d needed a scarf to cover Blaine’s marks at McKinley swelled in his chest.  
  
Blaine’s voice was low and ragged in his ear. “Good.”  
  
"Please," Kurt temporarily took his hand off his chest to squeeze at the base of his cock, "I’m already close, are you—?"  
  
"I’ve been touching myself this whole time. I feel like I’ve been hard all day, I feel you every time I move, I fingered myself this morning thinking about you stretching me open and fucking me, _oh,_ fuck me, Kurt _—”_  
  
” _Jesus,_ Blaine—” Kurt leaned forward and put the hand that wasn’t stroking his cock on the vanity table to steady himself. He was way too close already.  
  
"And I’m still so — _oh, shit_ — I’m so sore, but I want to be, want to feel you all the time, I missed you, _fuck_ ,” Blaine’s voice was rising, and shaking now, losing the minimal control he’d grasped just a moment ago, and Kurt could hear the wet noise of what he knew to be Blaine’s lubed fingers moving in and out of himself and around his cock.  
  
Kurt groaned, trying to stave off his orgasm even as he felt his balls tightening. “Let me see?”

Blaine sobbed, “Kurt, I need to—”

"Please, just really quick, I’m gonna come."  
  
Blaine’s rapid breathing disappeared but the wet slap of his skin got louder. A moment later, Kurt opened the text Blaine sent. The picture was taken between Blaine’s spread legs. Blaine’s face was visible in the dim background between his knees, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide and out of focus. The flash shone bright against the lube spread all over Blaine’s thick, flushed cock and around Blaine’s red, abused-looking hole where he had four slick fingers pressed deep inside himself.  
  
Kurt’s vision went white as his come shot all over the the mirror, and once his own moans subsided, he registered the wet noises on the other end of the phone getting wetter and Blaine letting out an “ _Oh_ , yes, Kurt, fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_ ,” babbling his way through his orgasm.  
  
Kurt dropped into his chair and let his breathing even out as he came down, not bothering to put his cock back in his pants as he stared dazedly at the white streaks that dripped on top of of his reflection.  
  
They just listened to each other for a while, until Blaine broke the silence with a giggly, “I got lube on my phone.”  
  
Kurt burst out laughing. “You should see what I just did to my vanity table.”  
  
"I think there’s a facial joke here, but I’m too fucked-out to make it."  
  
"You’re ridiculous."  
  
"You love me."  
  
Kurt was quiet for a moment. “You love me, too.”  
  
Blaine hummed. “That I do. And I had a great time with you today. You know, as friends. Buddies. Pals.”  
  
Kurt could feel that smug, stupid grin on Blaine’s face through the phone, but he just snorted and said, “Me too, broski.”  
  
Blaine’s laughter didn’t stop for a very long time.


End file.
